Clubbed to Death
by Dorminchu
Summary: Sabitsuki tries her hand at apprehending the lone Kaibutsu in the Sugar Hole. She has some room for improvement.


a/n: Hey, I remembered that **.flow** exists!

* * *

The quality of the air inside the _Sugar Hole_ isn't much better than the sewer. The café itself is small, though surprisingly well-lit near the main counter. A lone customer sits drinking quietly in the corner, and the tender behind the counter looks the part, in a short gray dress, dainty white apron—save for the heavy-looking gas-mask. It's impossible to tell whether the tender is a man or a woman.

And through the door steps their newest customer: a thin, sickly sort of thing with milky skin. Her tattered gray dress comes down just to the knees, which are grimy and bruised. A sleeveless shirt drapes over her bony figure. Whatever purity she might have retained has been eroded by time and exposure to the outside elements.

She reaches up, struggling to undo her own mask. Once freed, she discards the item and starts coughing wetly into her cupped hand.

Eventually she calms down, wheezing, grimacing. Studying the dark fluid staining her palm with an unreadable expression. Sabitsuki grunts, wipes her hand on her shirt. Then notices the masked bartender; it's difficult to tell where it's looking behind the heavy gas-mask and the hair-net.

"Coffee," the girl rasps.

The maid-in-mask nods, retreating behind the plain black door. Upon returning, the girl has taken up a seat on one of the barstools, slumped partway over the countertop. Her eyes drift restlessly over the scars on counter's tarnished surface. She looks up when a cup and saucer is set in front of her, trailing steam. It smells ordinary.

Leaning over the cup to let the steam invade her lungs, Sabitsuki hums vaguely. Making any noise will hurt, but the steam itself feels kind of nice.

The maid is talking, but it's impossible to tell what's being said behind the mask.

In an effort to be polite, Sabitsuki smiles thinly. Out of the corner of her eye, she's watching the other customer. White-haired, slumped over in the seat with its head down, humming to itself.

She's never seen a drunk _kaibutsu_ before. But there's never a point in questioning their weird behavior; not if she wants to keep her head intact.

She looks back over at the counter. The maid has gone. A shiver runs through her. Leaving some money and her coffee untouched on the counter, Sabitsuki slips out of her seat and walking slowly over to the other, poorly-lit side of the café.

She can still see the back of the wispy head, its profile illuminated, white like her. Calmly, she opens her own menu, scrolling through her Effects until she settles on one: **Iron** **Pipe**. It materializes upon selection, solid and cold in her hands.

She figures that the _kaibutsu_ will be sitting there no matter what she does, or where she goes. She starts to creep forward, gripping the lead pipe tighter, like that will help her relax, but it doesn't.

By now, she's close enough to tap it on the shoulder. The _kaibutsu_ still hasn't moved. Glancing up, she sees an empty counter. Good enough. Raising the pipe above her head and—hesitating mid-swing, she's still weak, not quick enough—her pipe is caught, then her wrists.

Sabitsuki's too shocked to vocalize her distress. The _kaibutsu_ has one good, brown eye. Its face has a consistency similar to the figures in the classic 1953 American film _House of Wax_ , just more grotesque; a near-indistinguishable mess of white and red, bloated flesh and coagulating blood, hair sticky with it around the edges.

It makes a chuffing noise. Pressing her brittle arms back, twisting 'til something snaps.

Sabitsuki's agonized screech is only met by the echoing clang of the pipe hitting the counter, then the floor. There's a blow to her chest; she's on the ground. Kicking the pipe out-of-reach, the _kaibutsu_ looms over her.

"That—was rude. Do you greet everyone new like that?"

She's crying, maybe. Clawing desperately at the floor with her good arm. Blood spills out of her mouth and she chokes on her own disease, writhing around on the dirty café floor like a rabid animal.

The _kaibutsu_ pushes down on her chest with the full weight of one foot. She feels something crack and this time musters a hoarse scream.

"Hurts, doesn't it? We don't usually have to deal with pests like you. They stay out there, and I stay here." It grins, gestures to its face. "I mean, how do you think I wound up like this?"

Sabitsuki is too dazed to respond properly.

"There's always someone, though," the _kaibutsu_ hisses. "You've done that before. Do you feel brave, killing other things?"

It's not her fault they're both deteriorating. She's the one getting better, she's not defective, she's just doing what no-one else—

"Hey, stay with me. You got yourself into this mess, now you have to—what is it now?" The _kaibutsu_ looks up sharply in the direction of the counter, and a hollow sense of relief floods her; maybe the maid has returned.

More importantly, the pressure on her chest lifts just enough. She immediately tries to roll away, in the direction of the pipe.

"Hey!"

Something connects with the side of her head and she cries out. Trying to get up, another blow sends her reeling back down.

"What?" the _kaibutsu_ snaps. Sabitsuki realizes it must be the gasmask that's talking. "Shit, fine, fine, I get it. Can't have a mess."

She's hauled to her feet, half-dragged somewhere past the bar, not outside but to a separate, dark room. Due to the extent of her injuries, it's a little difficult to focus on what's going on around her.

"You're lucky," the _kaibutsu_ says. "There's no one around to hear you."

It's the last thing anyone says to her before the door closes. Inhaling is painful, and the acrid smell of ash fills her nostrils. She winces and shuts her eyes again, but it makes no difference.

A low, mechanical groan fills the space around her. That's all she remembers.

* * *

a/n: If you're not into **.flow** , have no idea (or don't care) what the word _kaibutsu_ (怪物) means in the context of this story, it translates to _monster_. Hence the italicization.


End file.
